Tibby's Diner
by moseph
Summary: Our door is always open.
1. Chapter One

((cowers)) Don't hurt me! I'm sorry, I know I've got quite a few stories on the go now, but I _promise_, I won't take forever to update. I'm off school for exams starting today! And since I only have one written exam and one performance exam(stupid repertoire), I will have nothing to do until February 7th! Except, you know, hanging out with my friends and sleeping and that stuff. But other than that! No homework, no studying, nothing! This idea just randomly graced me with it's presence one day out of the blue. And it got me wondering, "Who is Tibby?" For ages, we Newsies fan writers have been writing about Tibby's. In every piece that takes place in the era of Newsies, they go to Tibby's. Or, at least, in the majority of pieces I've come across. I've written about it several times myself. And so, one day, I just started wondering these things and thought, "What if you could see the boys through the eyes of Tibby? If he could hear what they're saying and see what they see? He might know nothing about them at all, or he may know their name and where they sleep every night and their birth parents' names. Who is this oddity called Tibby?" So here you have it. Yet another fic from me, your darling Moseph. If you read it and like it, review, please!

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**Disclaimer: **I don't own Newsies or the characters. I don't even own Tibby. I only own the waiters that I name, like Craig. Don't sue me, I don't got five bucks. I don't even got five cents. Well, I _do_, but why would you sue someone for only five cents? That's just stupid.

* * *

I'm Tibby. No, really, I am. Joseph Tibby, to be exact, but the boys here all call me by my last name, as younger lads like to do. I'm the owner of Tibby's Diner, like it says on the door. Or at least, as the door suggests. You've probably walked by that door hundreds of times, but never wondered who Tibby is or was or how he came to own a diner named after him. That's because I'm invisible. 

Well, not _really_ invisible. I mean, I'm there and everything, bones and flesh and all. And at the ripe old age of sixty-four, I think that's pretty good. What I mean is, when I don't intend to be seen, I'm not seen. I'm clearly visible, but you don't even notice my presence. This comes in quite handy when I intend to eavesdrop, which is often, to tell the truth. I don't use this power for evil, strictly for good and to satisfy an old man's idle curiosity.

So, back to who I am. Yes, there is a real Tibby, it's not just some random, catchy name. I own this restaurant, I wait tables, do the books, even cook from time to time(I make a mean meatloaf). I started this diner because I was always just wandering. I never had a place to go to do my thinking, to talk to my friends, to do anything, for that matter. I had a home, but it wasn't the most peaceful of places. When I was eighteen, I brought together every penny I had and bought this restaurant. My parents told me I was crazy and, to tell the truth, half of the time I believed them. But after about a year of decorating, budgeting, buying furniture and silverware, test-cooking and hiring my staff, I had the restaurant up and running. My friends came in from time to time to cook for free and so I let them have as many free meals as they wanted. The restaurant gave me freedom. It was a place to crash when I had nowhere else or, if I closed all the windows, a place to entertain the ladies. If my parents were yelling at me and kicked me out or if something was getting me down, I'd come here and I could think things out and be with my friends.

I'm glad to see this tradition has passed on. Those newsboys are in here practically every day. The meals are cheap and it's a nice, friendly atmosphere. They feel comfortable talking to their friends here about anything from the weather to very serious negotiations. I should know, I've heard 'em all. I was here when that Jack Kelly and that nice David Jacobs kid and his brother were being interviewed by Denton, a reporter. Of course, they didn't notice me, but I heard every word they said. I was there when Jack suggested the idea of a newsie rally. And I was there after the rally when Denton betrayed them all. Those kids never figure it out that someone is listening to their every word. They figure the waiters are stupid(which, most of the time, they are), but they never think about Tibby himself do they? Ears of a hawk, I tell you.

I look up as I notice a particular group of newsboys I'm rather fond of: that nice David kid, with his brother, and three other boys who I believe are called Mush, Racetrack and Kid Blink, if my memory doesn't deceive me. They sit down in a booth near the centre of the restaurant. I send Craig, one of the boys, over to take their order and make sure it gets to them on time. In fact, I deliver the drinks myself, but they take no notice of me other than to say a quick thanks.

"So I was over in Brooklyn las' night," the blond one with the eyepatch begins. I guess that one's Kid Blink.

"Serious? What're you doin' in Brooklyn?" the Italian demands. That one's Racetrack and I have to agree with him. I know how dangerous Brooklyn was when I was their age and even now I've seen it's effects. Not a pretty sight, let me tell you.

"I was playin' craps," Kid Blink says casually. "Wit a few 'a Spot's guys."

"So? What's your point?" David asks. I always liked David. He's smart, he's funny and he's got a good head on his shoulders. Real sensible. And, of course, he's getting more street wise by the hour thanks to the newsies.

"Well, dey was tellin' me some interestin' tings," Blink says, practically inviting them to ask him what. The boy who I can only assume is Mush furrows his eyebrows.

"Like what?" he asks worriedly.

"Like some odd habits 'a Spot's goil, Caitlyn. Like ev'ry time he gets hisself some whores, she goes out wanderin' or she makes excuses 'bout goin' to da store or to da docks or even tah Church. Like she always looks noivous aroun' Spot, but Spot don't even notice. Like she comes back every night all mussed up. Dey figure she's cheatin' on ol' Spotty," Kid Blink says, waggling his eyebrows. That Mush kid looks even more worried than before. Of course, that kid always had a soft spot, so it doesn't surprise me that he's concerned. David frowns like he doesn't quite buy it and Les, his little brother, just keeps eating that hot dog. Racetrack snorts.

"Yeah, like any dame'd be so _stoopid_ as tah cheat on Spot Conlon. He'd rip 'er tah shreds and da guy who's screwin' 'er too," Racetrack says. I'm the only one who notices Mush gulp guiltily and try to hide behind his glass by taking a long drink. The other guys just keep talking about how stupid a guy would have to be to be doing Spot's girl.

"Well, maybe she came on tah him. And you know how gorgeous dose goil's 'a Spot's always are. Maybe da guy couldn't resist," Mush says, jumping in. The other boys wave it off as an act of idiocy, but Mush still looks nervous and unsure. I notice his glass is empty and quickly tiptoe over to take it from him. He doesn't even notice my hand reaching in front of him. I whisk his glass away and set it on the counter, pausing to think about him. Mush sure is looking, to me anyway, like _he's_ the stupid bastard who's been screwing Spot's girl and by the sounds of it, if he's found out, it won't end well. I look up when I hear a new batch of customers enter and what I see makes my stomach drop. I've only seen the kid once, but I'd recognize him anywhere. It's Spot Conlon, leading the way, a large group of Brooklynites, I suppose, following him, his arm slung around the shoulders of a pretty, brunette girl who I can only assume is Caitlyn. Mush blanches for a moment, then covers it with a welcoming grin. The others shout hello to the Brooklynites and they have a set in the booth adjacent to the others. Soon, they're calling for a waiter. I send over Craig and pray for the best.

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Hope you enjoyed! I've got a lot more ideas, but I won't continue unless I know this one's being read and liked. So, if you like it and want to see it continued, review! 

newsiesmoseph


	2. Chapter Two

WHOOOO! WHOOOOO! YES! YES! WHOOOOOO! ((runs around in circles))

**David: **((hands over ears, yelling over noise)) Alright, who's turn was it to give Moseph her Ritalin?

**Mush: **((same))Not me! It was Jack!

**David: **Jack! Come on, buddy!

**Jack: **((same, sheepishly)) What! I was busy!

**Racetrack: **((looking at clipboard)) Uh, guys? It says here on the memo sheet that the buses were cancelled in Moseph's school district, so there's no school today. And Moseph doesn't take Ritalin.

**David: **...

**Mush: **...

**Jack: **...

**Racetrack: **Yeah, that's what I thought. Anyway, since Moseph's still a little excited-

**Me: **YES! WHOOOOOOOO! ((runs in circles)) HUMANA HUMANA HUMANA HUMANA!

**Racetrack: **-I'm going to initiate the chapter. Time for shout outs!

**Me: **SHOUTOUTSSHOUTOUTSSHOUTOUTS!

**XBeLLaViTaX: **Woot! My empire grows! And by that, I mean...never mind. It's so complicated. Before I forget, of course you can get a birthday fic! Just make sure you remind me closer to the date because, otherwise, I guarantee I'll forget. I know your looks/personality and everything from Bye Bye Kelly and I'm assuming a Spot fic? Ooh, my first Spot fic! Fun stuff! Ah, yes, I feel it was my duty to give the anonymous a voice! And by that, I mean Tibby. He's so cute. Well, at least in my head he is. Okay, I _suppose_ I'll have to let Mush out. Do you know where I can rent a closet? Well, I'm updating now and I'm not sure how much longer Bye Bye Kelly's going to be, I haven't started yet, but after this, it'll be next. I have an order. First, I update this, then Bye Bye Kelly, then New York Is Calling Me, then Falling Down Stairs. Just so nothing gets neglected for a long time. Review again, please!

**Dreamless-Mermaid: **Ah, yes, what lies in the future for Mush? _That_ is the true question. **Mush: **((cowering)) Don't hurt me. **Me: **Aw, Mush. ((pats him on the head)) We'll see. Anyway, glad you enjoyed it! Read and review again, please!

**Nosilla: **Here I am! Continuing! See? Read and review again, please!

**Pancakes: **Good to know that this is original. Thanks for the review! Please, read and review again.

**Ducks-go-quack-00: **First may I say, I love your name. That's just so cool. Secondly, I'm glad you liked it! Ah, yes, I'm glad I'm not the _only_ person who wonders about Tibby. Here I am, updating again! I have no life... Thanks for reading!

**Racetrack's Dealer: **Very cool name, by the way. Thanks you, very much! ((bows)) Wait, it was named after his father? So there is a Tibby? Damn it! Do you think, if this was made into a movie, that he'd star in it? You know, if he's alive and he looks like the Tibby in my head? Yes, Tibby's is famous in Newsies fandom. I challenge anyone to find me a story without it at least mentioned in it. I'm _hoping_ Spot doesn't beat the shit out of Mush, but who knows? Anything could happen. Thanks for the review! Read and review again, please!

**Elphie: **Elphie darling! Kisses! I'm glad you love it and that it's "flippin' awesome". ((shakes head)) Elphie, dear, I think you need to watch Mary Poppins a few more times before you try that again. Hah! Pun! Mush pun! Oh! My sides! ((laughs)) Yes, Mush is _that_ stupid. Come on, he's a poor, uneducated orphan from 1899. Do you really expect him to be intelligent? Ah, well, this "flippin' awesome" story is being updated now. My other "flippin' awesome" stories, well, I can't promise how speedy they'll be. I have a cycle. So Bye Bye Kelly will be next. And I _just_ updated Falling Down Stairs, so that won't be for a while. Love ya, Beannie! (Hah. I love it)

**Brunette: **Hi dere! ((waves)) Tibby's so cool. I kind of picture him looking like the old referee in the boxing ring near the start of the movie. The guy with the huge bags under his eyes and who holds his head when the guys run through the ring? Tibby looks like him, in my head. Except, he's cooler and he talks. Yeah, it's always interesting when Spot's girls cheat on him. About that...I'm sorry I sorta stole that from you. The whole "Spot's girl cheating on him". But I thought it might be a good way to kick off the story and, believe me, it won't be the only main focus of the story. Hah! Crutchy. Gotta love 'im. I've never seen Steel Magnolias, but I'm thinking I should. Truvy's Beauty Shop? Tibby's Diner? Oddly similar. Here it is, doll! Thanks for the review!

Well, I'm back with a vengeance and another short chapter. I'm _sorry,_ okay! I just don't want to rush the action. I don't know about the rest of you, but I really like the plot for this and I don't want to screw it up on my first try. So I would expect fairly short chapters for most of this. Anyway, onto the chapter!

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Newsies. I don't own Tibby. I own Caitlyn and the waiters Craig and Johnson. That's it. Don't sue me. It won't be worth it anyway.

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I'm washing dishes when I see a flash of movement out of the corner of my eye. I continue with my chores, my eyes darting around, scanning the room for the source of the movement.

Finally, I see them. Huddled in a forgotten corner, hushed voices. Her body pressed close to his, his arms wrapped around her waist.

"Mushy, what's wrong?" she whispers. My eyes dart back to the Brooklyn leader. He's regaling the Manhattan newsies with a tall tale. None of them notice the absence of Spot's girl, nor Mush. They can't hear their voices, see their careful movements. My eyes turn back to the clandestine couple.

"Ah, nuttin' really," Mush mumbles, frowning. "It's just...Caitlyn, don't ya tink it's gone on lon' enough?" The girl, Caitlyn, pulls back from him.

"What? You don't want me anymore, Mushy?" she says, lip quivering.

"Nah, it's not that," Mush says quickly, pulling her back to him to conceal her. "You'se Spot's goil. Whaddaya think he'd do tah us if...when he finds out" Caitlyn smiles seductively.

"Mush, no one knows. It's perfect. Just you and me, in that little abandoned apartment, all alone-"

"Da othah newsies know, Caitlyn," Mush interrupts. Caitlyn steps back from him in surprise.

"How do you-"

"Blink was in Brooklyn and da odder Brooklyn newsies tink you'se cheatin' on Spot. Dey don' know who wid, though," Mush explains quietly. "Spot don' know, but if we keep dis up, he will." Caitlyn slumps against the wall.

"So what are we going to do?" Caityln whispers. Mush shakes his head.

"I guess we'll just have tah end it," he whispers back, pulling her to him and kissing her forehead. She nods solemnly, then gets a wicked look in her eye.

"Mush, do you remember what we talked about last night?" Mush frowns.

"Yeah. But dat was jus' talk. I didn' mean anyting by it. _You_ didn' mean anyting by it."

"Well..." she says, twirling a strand of dark brown hair. "I could always-"

"No. Not an option," Mush interjects quickly. Caitlyn smirks.

"You'll come around," she says, laying a kiss on Mush's lips and rejoining the table, sliding under Spot's arm. Mush glares at them for a moment, then retreats into the men's bathroom.

"WAITER! MORE BEER!" Spot calls jovially. I roll my eyes and send a waiter-in-training, Johnson, over to their table with a tray of rootbeer instead.

* * *

The Brooklynites leave half an hour later, Spot still with his arm around Caitlyn. She looks slyly out of the corner of her eye at Mush before snuggling in closer to Spot. Mush narrows his eyes at the retreating couple.

"I don' like dat goil a' Spot's," he says. Blink laughs.

"_I_ do," he says, waggling his eyebrows. "Man, I'd like tah-"

"Blink. Stop," Mush warns.

"Wha'? You don' agree?" Blink says, grinning sarcastically.

"No, I don'. She's Spot's goil and he'd rip you tah shreds if he could hear yah," Mush says.

"Geez, lighten up, Mush, buddy," Racetrack says, clapping Mush on the shoulder. "It's just a joke." Mush shrugs his hand off his shoulder.

"I gotta go," he mumbles, sliding out of the booth. Blink watches him go.

"What'sa mattah wid him?" he asks, his friends shrugging in reply.

* * *

It's late at night and I'm closing up when I hear the distant pounding of footsteps. The door bursts open and a hectic looking young man stands in the doorway. He looks around and quickly ducks underneath a table by the window. I don't bother him and continue to sweep inconspicuously. A moment later, an angry sounding group of newsies storm past the restaurant, not even bothering to glance in the window of the restaurant. Once they've disappeared, I nod subtly at the boy and he emerges, the flash of red around his neck suddenly becoming apparent. Jack Kelly smiles at me gratefully.

"Thanks. Dey always say not tah piss off Brooklyn. Dey nevah mention da Bronx, do dey?" he says, grinning impishly.

"No problem boy. You got a place to stay?"

"No where safe from dose guys. Do ya tink I could sleep here tonight? I promise, I'll be gone in the morning," he says. I nod.

"Of course. I sleep upstairs if you need anything. Make yourself at home," I say and start to retreat upstairs before I think of something. "And kid? Make sure you get a cup of coffee before you go. It's on me," I add, winking at him and climbing up the rest of the stairs.

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Ah, so there's another chapter down! I'll be updating all my other stories before this one, so don't expect another chapter within a few days. But, you can always read more of my brilliant fics! I must warn you, though. Lots of David. Not that it's a bad thing. Now, excuse me while I go watch a little South Park.

newsiesmoseph


	3. Chapter Three

I'm ba-ack! ((scary, Chucky, Psycho type music)) Be afraid...be very afraid.

SHOUT OUTS!

**Sprints 100: **Tibby _is_ so cool. I wanna hang with him! In my experience, old men are either cool or creepy. Tibby goes in the cool category. Thankies for the review! Hope you enjoy the new chapter!

**XbeLLaViTaX: **Well, being home sick is bad, but making your day is good! ((is happy)) I'm at work on your birthday fic. I think you'll enjoy it. I made Blink your best friend because I think he's cool. I _did_ get your response to my survey! And I loved your comments on my loving of Davey. I'm waiting for you to send me one on Spot. ((taps foot)) Gotta love that Irish boy. Except when he's an ass. Tibby is freakin' awesome. I wish I knew him. Yeah, I hate Caitlyn too. Is it just me, or does she have Mary Sue potential? As for Mush getting beaten up, weeeeeell... you'll have to wait and see. Are you telling me to store Mush in a morgue? ...Alrighty then. Well, I don't write a _lot _of fics. I only have..seven? ((tries to remember)) Yes, it is seven. You know I always welcome reviews. Update One Of Those Days soon! Thankies for the review! Hope you enjoy the new chapter!

**racetracksdealer**: The Bronx rocks hard! Man, I need to see Ragtime! ((makes mental note)) Sounds like a blast, kid! I don't know why I just called you kid... Maybe because I'm in a rat pack mood today. Ah well, it don't matter. Thank you! Here I am, writing more. No need to make threats, now. ((nervous laughter)) Thankies for the review! Hope you enjoy the new chapter!

**ducks-go-quack-00: **Thank you! Yep, it's going to be about all the newsies and their problems. All of it will take place within Tibby's Diner, through the eyes of Tibby himself. Well, it is quite the cool name. Tibby's hard core. I love that old man. Thankies for the review! Hope you enjoy the new chapter!

**Elphie: **Really? Now what would give you that feeling, dearest? I know what clandestine means because of The O.C. And then I listened to Wicked and I was like "Ohhhhh! I get it now!" So...you see the thought process...yeah. I like using the word "wicked" to describe people. It makes me feel happy. Yep, he's Irish all right. If only I were Irish... Yeah, uh huh, I'm afraid you'll have to leave the diner now, ma'am. That's right, move along. I want to live in Tibby's all the time and hang out with the newsies and Tibby and Craig and it'll be so much fun! ((dances joyfully)) Okay, I'm calm now. I love that you love calling me Mofo. You'se the only one, so it's even funnier for some reason. Thankies for the review! Hope you enjoy the new chapter!

**Brunette: **Well, I didn't figure you were the first one to come up with it, I just got the idea from your fic because I haven't read any other fics where Spot's girl cheated on him. I really liked the idea and I thought it was a good way to kick off the story. ((makes mental note to see Steel Magnolias)) I should write it down on my list... Well, I suppose you'll find out what they were talking about eventually. Got to leave a little mystery in the story. Oh yeah, Mush is ever so brilliant. ((sarcastic eye roll)) Yay! I get another quote! There's three from me! ((is insanely happy)) Thankies for the review! Hope you enjoy the new chapter!

Wow. I have nothing to say. _This _is new. How many times have I been at a loss for words? Very few, I'm sure you agree. Whoa. This is so weird.

**David:** ((appearing from nowhere)) She keeps Moet et Chandon in her pretty cabinet!

What?

**Racetrack: **((appears in puff of smoke)) "Let them eat cake" she says, just like Marie Antionette!

You guys, really, what are you doing?

**Jack: **((drops from sky)) A built in remedy for Khrushchev and Kennedy!

Really, guys, I have to get on to the fic.

**Skittery: **((slides in, doing air guitar)) And anytime an invitation you can decline!

Guys, this isn't fair! You know my weakness for Queen!

**Snipeshooter:** ((is blown out of cannon)) Caviar and cigarettes, well versed in etiquette!

WHOA! Where did we get the cannon?

**Les: **Extraodinarily nice!

Aww...cute Les!

**All newsies: **((synchronised head banging)) She's a killer queen! Gunpowder, gelatine! Dynamite with a laser beam!

Ah, I give up. Guaranteed to blow your mind!

**Newsies: **((strike poses)) Any time!

Recommended at the price! Insatiable an appetite!

**Spot: **((raises eyebrow)) Wanna try?

**Spot Fan Girls: **((faint))

((still headbanging)) Read the fic, guys! SHE'S A KILLER QUEE-EEN!

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Newsies or any of the characters. I own Craig and Caitlyn. And also, any other characters I may have mentioned who you don't recognize from the film. So I _dare_ you to sue me! Go ahead! Try!

* * *

At dawn the next morning, I can hear footsteps below, coffee being poured and the door opening. Just like that, in a small, quiet flurry of sound, Jack Kelly is done. Now that I've heard him go, I can't get back to sleep. It's just as well anyway. My bladder has plans for us. I throw the covers off and toddle off to the bathroom as fast as my feet can carry me.

I manage to get down the stairs fairly quickly this morning, but Craig is already sweeping quietly. It's lucky he has a spare key to the restaurant. I don't know what I'd do without him.

"I swept last night, you know," I tell him, heading for the coffee pot.

"You wouldn't know it," Craig replies, not looking up. "Someone must've gotten in here last night. Muddy footprints everywhere."

"Yes, I supposed someone _did_ break in last night," I lie, taking a sip of coffee. It's like heaven. Craig stops sweeping and leans on the broom, grinning.

"So, who'd you let in?" he asks knowingly.

"What makes you think I let someone in?" I ask, faking an indignant tone.

"Because I _know _you, Joe. You're not one to kick a kid out on the streets," he says. "So who was it this time?"

"Jack Kelly. Run in with the Bronx," I reply. Craig whistles.

"Yeah, I wouldn't want to get on the bad side of those guys," he says with a grin, and continues sweeping. He starts humming to himself absent mindedly, still smiling. Probably looking back on his days as a newsie. He was only a kid when he started here and I wasn't much older. Trolley, they used to call him. Craig always hated it, but didn't have a real name to go by, so I gave him my late best friend's name.

"Hey mister. Can I stay here for the night?" he asked me innocently. How could I say no? As a thank you, Craig started washing dishes for me as a second job and by the time he was nineteen, he worked here full time. Craig took a liking to that Kelly kid.

"He reminds me of me," Craig would say with a nostalgic smile. Perhaps it's because of Craig that I always take pity on the newsies. As Craig sweeps the last of Jack's dried footprints into the dust pan, I turn over the sign to indicate that we're open and go behind the counter to start brewing more coffee.

"Hey, Tibbs? Ever wonder what you'd be doing if you didn't own this joint?" Craig asks suddenly. I pause. "Tibbs?"

"Yeah, sure I do," I say, nodding.

"What would you be doing?" Craig asks.

"Probably the same thing I'm doing now," I answer. "I love this job."

"But is this what you thought you'd be doing as a kid?"

"Well, no," I admit. "When I was a kid, I wanted to be the captain of a ship." Craig smiles.

"Sounds like a nice dream," Craig comments, leaning on his broom.

"Yeah, but that wouldn't work out. I get seasick," I say with a chuckle. "What about you Craig? Did you have a dream?" Craig goes quiet.

"I used to," he answers softly. "But dreams don't come true in this place."

"What was it?"

"I don't remember," he mumbles, as the bell alerts us of approaching customers.

"Gimme a coffee, waitah. I'm feelin' lucky!" says a voice, the rich New York accent filling the room. Racetrack Higgins strode into the restaurant, followed closely by David Jacobs and his younger brother. I pour a cup of coffee as the boys seat themselves at a booth by the window.

"So, how's Mush doing?" David asks worriedly. "Jack told me about his run in with Spot." My ears perk up and I go into my invisibility mode. I place the mug of coffee on their table; Racetrack takes it without glancing at me.

"I dunno. The poor guy looked pretty bad," Racetrack answers, shaking his head.

"Really?" David says with surprise. "I would have thought that Mush could hold his own against Spot."

"Me too. But Spot came at him and he just stood there. Didn't fight back or anythin'. We were draggin' 'im back to dah lodge and he kept mumblin' somethin' 'bout deservin' it." Racetrack furrows his brow. "I figger Spot hit 'im so hard he messed 'im up."

"David, can I have a hot dog?" the little one whines, interrupting Racetrack.

"Not now, Les. Maybe at lunchtime," David tells him.

"Spot musta gone mad too. No one could make out what he was sayin', but Snoddy told me latah dat Spot was screamin' 'bout his goil," Racetrack continues. I freeze, midway through washing a mug.

"Really? Oh God, do you think...?" David trails off, sudden realization crossing his face.

"Wha'?" Racetrack demands, his face still blank.

"Do you remember our conversation here the other day, Race when Blink was telling us about Spot's girlfriend?" Racetrack's face remains blank. "About her cheating on him?" Racetrack's mouth forms a perfect 'o'.

"Oh God, d'ya think Mush was da stoopid bastard screwin' Spot's goil?" Racetrack asks.

"Race!" David cries, gesturing to Les. Les looks around innocently. "Les, why don't you go find Jack and bring him back here?" Les nods dutifully, hops out of the booth and marches toward to door. After he leaves, David and Racetrack lean in closer, keeping their voices down. I strain to listen, but their voices are too quiet and my hearing isn't what it used to be. Soon, Les reenters the restaurant with Jack in tow. He still looks half asleep; I imagine he didn't get much sleep the previous night. These chairs and benches are not the most comfortable. I should know. Jack slides in next to Racetrack while Les reclaims his seat next to David.

"Heya fellahs," Jack greets them, reaching for Racetrack's coffee, which has not yet been touched. Racetrack takes no notice, simply rubs his forehead wearily.

"How's Mush doing?" David asks. Jack shrugs.

"Not great," he answers. "I had tah force him tah stay at da lodge tahday. Kloppman's lettin' 'him stay free 'a charge tahnight."

"What even happened, exactly?" David asks curiously.

"Heah's what I heard from Shiner down in Brooklyn," Jack begins, leaning in toward them. David and Racetrack lean in even further and Les obliviously makes a ball out of his napkin and tosses it from hand to hand. "Dey say Mush's been wid dat Caitlyn goil foah two months now. I don' know what it was, but Caitlyn went tah Spot last night and told him she wanted to be wid Mush, not him. Spot exploded and Caitlyn told 'im all about it. So Spot came ovah tah Manhattan, tracks down Mush and beat the shit outta him." The boys are quiet briefly. I'm so intent on listening that I forget to keep my grip on the glass I'm holding and it slips from my hands, shattering loudly on the floor. The boys look up, but don't see me, as I'm bent behind the counter, sweeping up the mess. Their voices pick up again and I have to strain to listen and sweep at the same time.

"So wheah's Caitlyn now?" Racetrack asks.

"No idea. Aftah Spot left Brooklyn, she took off. She could be anywheah. Spot's lookin' foah her, though. I don' wanna think about what he's gonna do tah her when he finds her," Jack answers.

"What do you think possessed her to tell Spot about her and Mush?" David wonders.

"Got no idea. I don' think Mush told 'er tah do it. He's a hell of a fightah, but he likes tah avoid...confri...confra..."

"Confrontation," David informs him.

"Yeah, con-fron-ta-tion," Jack agrees. "I gotta go, guys. Carryin' the bannah, eh?"

Racetrack, David and Les accompany Jack and leave the restaurant. Racetrack's coffee remains untouched and unpaid for. I finish sweeping the broken glass and stand to see Craig sipping the boy's coffee. He flips me two pennies and comes behind the counter, standing beside me.

"So. Do you want to kill that Caitlyn girl as much as I do?" Craig asks, taking a sip. I smile at him.

"Every bit."

* * *

One more verse! To avoid complications, she never kept the same address!

**Itey: **((collapses)) Water...water...please...

Aw, you guys are wusses! Come on, someone finish the verse!

**Pie Eater: **((wearily)) Fine, _I_ will, just to SHUT! YOU! UP! In conversation, she...spoke...just...like...a... ((collapses on top of Itey)) uhhh...bar...o...nessss...

Fine! I'll finish it myself! ((dances like Garth)) Met a man from China!

**Specs: **((slides on knees, dressed like Freddy Mercury)) Went down to Geisha Minah! Then again incidentally if you're that way inclined!

...Specs, you're my new favourite.

Review, please!

newsiesmoseph


	4. Chapter Four

You know, I would explain my absence _again_, but, since you are all capable of clicking a mouse button, I shall just advise you to read my other stories. And it doesn't hurt if I get a review out of it either. ((coughcough))

SHOUT OUTS!

**Hollywood: **Meh, don't worry about it. As long as you read the last chapter, it doesn't matter. Caitlyn is an evil bitch. I was trying to make you hate her. She's sort of a Sue. But it's okay, because you're not supposed to like her. Thanks for the review!

**Racetrack's dealer: **OMG, YOU HAVE NO IDEA HOW OFTEN I CALL QUEEN MY LOVER! I'm completely obsessed with Queen. I can't believe I _still_ don't have the Classic Queen album. I've heard of (and love) all those Queen songs except Sheer Heart Attack. I'll download it. Actually, my list exactly matches yours except I would put The Show Must Go On in place of Sheer Heart Attack. Oh, and, while I love Nature Boy, I would also put Under Pressure on that list. It's Queen AND Bowie! Best of two worlds! But I can't possibly rank my Queen songs. I love them all. Queen is just fantasticness. I've TOTALLY heard of Queen the Musical. I thought about asking my mom to buy tickets, but then I was like, "It might ruin Queen for me. It sounds too weird." Have you seen it? If so, tell me how it is! I'm not a fan of coffee, but at two cents a cup, I might just have to take it up. The urge to burst into Bohemian Rhapsody is quite tempting... We'll see. Thanks for the review!

**ducks-go-quack-00: **I wish I knew Craig and Tibby. They'd be my best friends. Old men are so cool with their sweaters and their checkers and such. ((cuddles Tibby)) Killer Queen is awesomeness! Thanks for the review!

**Elphie: **I'd sell you all my pretty dresses and I'd STILL be more awesome! So there! Jack is so lovably stupid. Or "stoopid" as Race would say. Oh, you poor, uneducated cretin. Oh, not you, Elphie, I meant Race. Tibby's the coolest. DAMN HOMEWORK! Well, now that it's summertime, you don't have to worry about icky homework getting in the way! Thanks for the review!

**andthenyouwokeup: **Hey, when did you change your name? Hah, going outside is overrated. Who needs fresh air when you can stare at a computer screen all day? I know it was a long time ago, but I'm so glad you liked your birthday fic! That was a lot of fun to write. And it was my first Spot fic! No, forget itty bitty, Caitlyn IS a Sue. She's totally a Sue. But it's okay because I'm not making her the focus of attention and you're not supposed to like her. You're supposed to HATE her with a fiery passion, as I do. Long-term storage place? Hmm, I could look into that. Mush, how do you feel about a vacation? Oh, I have many plot problems. Actually, I have problems in general, but no one cares about that. BOHEMIAN RHAPSODY IS THE BEST SONG IN THE HISTORY OF MUSIC! Seriously, it's one of my favourite songs of all time. Who _hasn't_ seen Wayne's World? Those people are losers. NO! DO NOT SHORTEN YOUR REVIEWS! I adore long, babbly reviews. They make me laugh and entertain me. They make me feel like my work and I are appreciated. Tibby's the greatest. I wish he was my best friend. ((hums)) Thanks for the review!

**Disclaimer: **(Hey, you know what I just thought of? It would be terribly funny if someone had Disclaimer as their pen name so that if people went to write them a shout out...never mind, it's funny in my head) I own Caitlyn and Tibby and Craig and any other currently nameless characters that might find their way into this chapter. Everything else belongs to Disney. Damn corporate machine.

* * *

Jack Kelly was at the restaurant every night for a week before he finally asked me if I had a couch he could sleep on in my apartment above the building. I agreed immediately; I was a bit worried about the poor kid's health, truthfully, sleeping in those booths.

And every day that week, I overheard newsies speaking in hushed tones of Mush's condition. From what I could gather, he was looking worse every day. His wounds weren't healing, he was constantly leaking some bodily fluid and the doctor couldn't give him any more medication. No one had enough money to take him to the hospital to be looked at, so Kloppman was forsaking a bed in the lodging house for Mush's stay.

I like Kloppman. He and I get along real well.

That's not the point. Every day, Mush was looking a little paler, his voice sounded a little weaker and he had a little less energy. He was hardly eating anything and, on top of everything, he was coming down with a cold.

The morning's cold and bleak as I make my way downstairs. The couch in my apartment is empty and I'm assuming that Jack has already departed, as usual. I'm surprised to see him behind the counter in the kitchen, making waffles.

"Mornin'!" he says to me brightly, scraping the last bit of mix into the waffle iron. He seems to be enjoying himself as he bustles around the kitchen, throwing together ingredients and whistling a happy tune.

"Good morning." I take my usual seat at the counter and sip the coffee that's already poured for me. The hardships of old age are a little more bearable with a steaming cup of coffee in my hand.

"Listen, uh, I nevah got tah thank you for lettin' me stay heah last night," Jack says, taking his attention away from the waffles and leaning over the counter. "So, uh...thanks."

"No problem," I say, sipping my coffee. "Your waffles are burning." Jack turns back in panic and, sure enough, a steady plume of smoke is rising from the waffle iron. Jack wrenches it open, pulls out a blackened waffle and throws it in the trash.

"No big deal," Jack says nonchalantly. "I'll just have toast." He throws a piece of bread on the frier and leans back over the counter. "So, uh, listen. I ain't goin' back to da lodgin' house foah a long time, so I was wonderin' if I could stay wid you? I'll pay you back! I'll help you out heah!" Jack grabs a broom and starts attacking the floor with it as if to show me how helpful he can be. I mull this over.

"All right. But I'm not letting you near the kitchen. You can wait tables," I inform him, draining the last of my coffee. Jack seems to be okay with this and sticks out a hand.

"Jack Kelly," he tells me proudly. I take his hand.

"Joseph Tibby. Welcome." I shake his hand firmly and hand him my mug. "You can start with the dishes." Jack grumbles good naturedly, letting his toast turn to charcoal on the stove and getting to the dishes left over from yesterday.

The bell above the door tinkles and in walks my first customers of the day: the increasingly familiar Racetrack Higgins, flanked by Kid Blink and Skittery. Just as the door shuts, the bell tinkles again and my only female waitress enters, apron slung over her shoulder.

"Sorry I'm late, Tibbs," Megan tells me, rapidly tying the apron around her waist.

"Not at all," I tell her, sipping my second coffee. "Go see what those gentlemen want." Megan nods, knots the ties behind her back and walks over to the boys' table with a huge, plastered smile. From here, I can see a cigarette poking out of her back pocket and a dribble of what looks like spit running down the front of her shirt. Megan was the frazzled single mother of a six-month old boy and, at twenty-one, she was already working two jobs while Jacob stayed at her cousin's apartment. I knew from lengthy discussions on slow days that she was struggling to make ends meet and, between her job here and her employment at the factory, she barely had time for a son. Many times, she'd thought about adoption, but one look at little Jacob and no human could bear to part with that.

For once, I couldn't hear what the boys were saying, thanks to Jack making a large racket behind me, but it doesn't look like Megan was very happy. She stormed back over, hands clenched and teeth gritted.

"I have to put up with every pick-up line in the book and these clowns only order a cup of coffee each?" she spits rhetorically. "Hey! New guy! Gimme three cups 'a joe!" she yells to Jack. He pours them carefully and places them on the counter.

"There you go. And my name is Jack."

"Don't care." Megan grabs the mugs and, balancing them carefully, carries the brimming cups to the table. She plunks herself beside me on the stool at the counter and sighs. "Is it too early to take a break?"

"I'm afraid so, Megan," I inform her gently. "But it looks like it'll be a slow day, so you can relax a bit." Megan props an elbow up on the counter and rests her head in her palm. "So how's Jacob doing?"

"Oh, he's fine," she answers me with closed eyes. "He's bonding real well with my cousin Tim. I'm just worried that he'll bond too well." She sits upright. "Tibbs, am I crazy? Working two jobs? I got a six-month old kid and I hardly ever see him except for at night, when he won't stop crying and all I wanna do is sleep. Should I just give him up?"

"Megan, dear, we've been over this," I tell her gently. "I'm not a social worker."

"I know, I just wish I could get away from this. From...New York," she sighs hopelessly.

"I know what you mean," Jack says softly behind me, midwash. Megan turns around and glares at him.

"I don't remember asking for your opinion," she snaps at him. Jack looks offended momentarily, then returns to washing dishes. I'm about to retell her the age old story of how I came to own a restaurant when the door bursts open again. A hush falls over the table of previously rowdy boys and they stare up at the tall, skinny form that just entered the shop. He looks around at the boys and says very quietly:

"Boys. Mush is dead."

* * *

Oh, can you bear it? The drama! The horror! You know what might help bring Mush back from the dead? How 'bout a review? Huh? Huh?

**Mush: **((is dead))

**Blink: **((dramatically, in the rain)) MUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUSH!

Where did the rain come from? _I'm inside! _((shrugs, opens umbrella)) Review, ladies!

Moseph

P.S. Because it's the best song ever...

MAMA! OOOO! I DON'T WANNA DIE! I SOMETIMES WISH I'D NEVER BEEN BORN AT ALL!

((insane air guitar))


End file.
